She stalked over to the hydration station on their side and grabbed a water. Atlas gave a rueful smile, nodding to where their parents sat in the bottom row of the stands, surrounded by eager well-wishers. “Mom and Dad clearly think this is hilarious,” he remarked.
Something about the comment rankled Avery. “It is hilarious,” she said tersely. “You being here, playing tennis against me, as if we’re any old brother and sister who happened to make it to the finals. The new mayor’s kids’ epic showdown. What a hilarious joke,” she spat, twisting angrily at the cap of the water bottle.
Atlas seemed saddened by her outburst. “You’re the one who said to forget that anything ever happened with us. To act like normal siblings.”
Normal siblings. As if they could ever go back to that.
“I’m sorry, I just . . .” she said helplessly as the buzzer sounded.
It wasn’t fair of Atlas to do this to her. She’d been doing just fine before he came back to town and threw everything into disarray. Why couldn’t he have stayed on his side of the world?
But she hadn’t been fine, a small voice inside her whispered. She hadn’t been fine since the moment she set foot back in New York, and all her old problems came rushing back to meet her.
There was a slight buzz near her head as Avery lined up along the baseline. Another zetta, hoping to get a good shot for whoever was watching on the feeds. All right, she thought, suddenly angry. If they wanted to see flawless, famous Avery Fuller, she might as well give them a show.
Avery tossed the ball into the air and incinerated it with her serve. The shot whipped past Sania before the poor girl could react. Avery felt oddly gratified by the startled expression on Atlas’s face.
She kept on playing like that, fueled by a hot, queasy adrenaline. She played so fiercely that she was no longer thinking, not about Atlas or Max or her parents’ laughter or the blurred, painted faces of the crowd. It felt good to shut down her brain like this, to become nothing but a bundle of fast-twitch nerve endings in a shiny package.
She won one game after another with almost no assistance from Max, who tried a few times to make a shot or two, only to interfere with the blaze of her warpath. Eventually he stood aside and just let Avery play the game herself. Across the court, Sania had done the same.
But that was how she’d wanted it, wasn’t it? A singles match, her versus Atlas?
She won the remaining games one after the other, stacking them neatly in a row, until suddenly it was match point. When the ball came toward her, Avery barreled it across the court at full force. Atlas barely managed to hold up his racket, sending the ball straight into the net.
Avery forced her lips to curl into a smile. She walked up to the net to thank Sania and Atlas, trying to ignore the bright, hot yells of the crowd.
Atlas didn’t say anything when they shook hands. He barely touched her at all.
“Damn, you really turned up the heat out there! I don’t think I’ve seen that side of you before.” Max threw an arm around Avery’s shoulders and leaned in, his breath warm in her ear. “It was kind of a turn-on, seeing you get that competitive.”
Avery nodded and smiled mechanically. Max probably still thought that he’d helped take her mind off things. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she only felt worse.
People began swarming onto the court in congratulations, a million grinning faces seeming to leer up at her. A white tent had been set up nearby—only at Altitude did they feel the need to pitch a tent indoors—where pink champagne was being passed on engraved trays.
Avery couldn’t help looking over at Atlas.
When their eyes met he gave a sad smile, and the sight of it turned Avery’s victory to ashes in her mouth. Unlike everyone else here, Atlas knew her. He knew what that display on the court had meant, how strangely unsettled Avery was feeling. And he knew that he was the reason.
Avery couldn’t take his eyes on her anymore. She rose on tiptoe to kiss Max, letting her racket clatter dramatically to the ground as she wrapped her arms very publicly around him, drawing out the kiss much longer than she needed to.
When she finally stepped away, her eyes darted reflexively to Atlas. He was retreating toward the Altitude Club exit. She realized, with a flush of shame, that it was exactly what she had intended.
“Ready to go in?” Max asked good-naturedly, with a nod to the party.
Avery nodded, holding tight to his hand like a lifeline. She needed Max right now, to reassure her that she was still here, still herself. That she was the Avery Fuller he knew and loved, and not the broken girl who Atlas had left in his wake all those months ago.
LEDA
EVERYTHING FELT WRONG to Leda these days.
She stumbled through the world at the center of a cloud of wrongness, which seemed to pervade everything, closing its fingers stealthily around her throat. The ground felt unsteady beneath her, like the surface of a ship, like melting quicksand.
It was the same as last year, when she came back from Dubai with the knowledge that Eris had been her half sister—except that this time it was worse, because this time Leda had no idea what she had done. Could she have truly killed Mariel and blacked it out? Why did the world keep doing this to her, piling one brutal revelation atop another until she couldn’t stand it?
All she wanted was to forget. To fight back against the dark cloud with a cloud of her own.